Very Responsible
by Sister Coyote
Summary: Riza was many things but irresponsible she was not. Riza/Havoc. First anime. Smut.


When Riza slipped back into the hospital room, Havoc was already up—favoring his arm a little, but up, looking bemusedly at the black wig in his hands. He turned the bemused expression to her. She smiled and adjusted her own wig slightly, then reached up to pull him down for a kiss which he was, by all evidence, not expecting. After the first startled moment, however, he returned the kiss with gratifying enthusiasm.

Then he said, "You have no idea how disconcerting it is to have you kiss me with that disguise on."

Though she knew this whole thing was serious—very serious indeed—Riza couldn't keep her mouth from curving into a reluctant smile. "Is it convincing?"

"Disturbingly so," Havoc said, wry, slipping his cigarette back between his lips. His fingertips traced the contour of her jaw. "I could tell the difference, though."

"I should hope so." She plucked it back out of his mouth and kissed him again, and then waved the cigarette under his nose and said, "How are you going to manage without this for all that time?"

"With great difficulty," he said, plaintively, "but I don't see any reason to forgo it now, seeing as I'm not in costume yet." He neatly retrieved his cigarette—which was half ash by then anyway—with one hand, and slipped Fuery's glasses off her nose with the other. "And neither should you be."

She kissed him again before he could put the cigarette back in his mouth.

She would have thought it more awkward than it was to kiss someone more than a head taller than her—but then, he was very courteous about bending down. She threaded her fingers up through his scruffy hair; he in turn slid his hand from her jawline up to her temple, where he pulled free the pins holding the wig in place. The wig slipped back and he helped it along until it was on the floor, and she had to watch out to keep from stepping on it.

"Very responsible, lieutenant," she said against his mouth.

"C'mon," he said. "Give a guy a break."

"When have you ever known me to do that?" she asked, and he chuckled warm against her cheek and then kissed her again—and she kissed him—and tried not to think of the risks they were both taking, because her mind was made up and so there was no point in dwelling on what might go wrong.

He nuzzled and kissed her neck, stopped by the high collar of her uniform; had she been naked, or at least wearing less, she knew he would have moved on to nipping her collarbone and the bone of her shoulder, but it would have been extremely irresponsible to take her clothes off here, in this delicate situation, and Riza was many things but irresponsible she was not. To his credit Havoc didn't try to disrobe her. After a moment he put his hand on her shoulder and turned her around until her back was to his chest and his hand was on her hip. She could feel him, erect, against the small of her back. She slid an arm up and around his neck, backward, and turned her head to kiss him again as he pushed a hand past the heavy waistband of her uniform and into her underwear.

He didn't waste any time, and she was relieved by that; if it went on too long, they risked being found by a nurse on one of the regular floor rounds. As it was they had a good ten minutes—twelve at the outside—before a nurse was scheduled to look in, and so Riza did not feel obligated to stop him. She was glad of it. She rocked back, rubbing against him, as he pressed his fingers through her hair and slid them along her labia. He made a small sound, breathless, wondering, which made her feel quite warm. She turned her head to kiss him again, biting at his lower lip.

He rubbed the joint of his thumb against her clitoris in long, firm strokes—just right, no distracting scrape of fingernails or awkward slipping—and then curled his forefinger and pushed it into her. He had big hands, big fingers, and she swallowed a sound and thought that maybe she hadn't _really_ appreciated that fact until just now.

"You like that," he whispered against her ear.

"Astute of you to notice," she said, but her ragged breathing detracted somewhat from the dryness of her tone. She shivered when he pressed another finger into her, a wonderful slow stretch, and _oh_, he had a rifleman's calluses—no, most assuredly she had not appreciated his hands sufficiently before, something she intended to rectify.

He kept on at a good steady pace until her thighs shook and she had to squeeze her eyes closed and bite her lip from making a sound that would be immediately recognizable for what it was by anyone passing in the halls. She felt Havoc slip his fingers out of her and leaned against him for just a moment as he wiped them off. Then she regained her balance and as much of her composure as she could manage, buttoning her pants again as he bent to retrieve the Fuery-wig from the floor. He set it on her head, somewhat cockeyed, and said, "You might want to check a mirror."

"What about you?" she asked. He was still obviously hard, and it was only fair to reciprocate. There wasn't much time before the nurse would return, but she could be quick.

Havoc, however, slipped Fuery's glasses back over her ears and then kissed her again. "Come back in one piece once the revolution's over," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, "and then you can make it up to me."

She smiled at him, straightening the wig. "I shall do my best. I expect the same of you, lieutenant."


End file.
